


Trigger

by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)



Series: Occasionally Domestic [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, BDSM, College Student Stiles, Contracts, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek is a Good Boyfriend, Dom Derek, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma, Safewords, Sub Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 01:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12716751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaydenNara/pseuds/Little%20Spoon
Summary: Derek wanted to be needed. He wanted to take care of Stiles, to protect him, and to love him the way Stiles deserved to be loved. Stiles was his pack.Stiles just wanted to be good.





	Trigger

Derek set his folder of printed documents on the island counter beside two unopened bottles of water and two pens with chewed caps he'd` found on the floor between the coffee table and couch. Why they had been on the floor, Derek could only imagine. Stiles tended to spread his work out in their apartment much like he had his bedroom back in Beacon Hills, minus the web of investigations, disappearances, and deaths. The chewed lids were no mystery since his boyfriend had the biggest oral fixation Derek had ever seen.

Everything went in Stiles’ mouth. Not that Derek minded. There were quite a few things Derek wouldn’t mind seeing in Stiles’ mouth, like his dick. There was nothing quite like watching those obscene lips wrap around his cock while hungry, glazed eyes stared up at him. And the noises…

Clearing his throat, Derek adjusted the not so little problem in his jeans and double checked Stiles’ location. He could hear Stiles muttering to himself in their bedroom, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. His libido was what had gotten them into this mess in the first place, and why he insisted they sit down and discuss what they both wanted going forward.

Stiles had finished only finished his second year at Columbia a few weeks ago, and his schedule was still as hectic and cluttered with his new summer job as it had been while he attended full-time classes. Derek had offered to cover all expenses, including the cost of books and portion of tuition Stiles’ partial scholarship didn’t cover. Beyond accumulating more through various investments, Derek had nothing better to do with his money, but as always, his boyfriend was stubborn.

Stiles still refused to take Derek’s money when Derek had already let Stiles live in New York, rent free, for the last two years. But Derek enjoyed taking care of Stiles. It settled his wolf to be able to provide for his pack mate and lover. He liked stocking the cupboards with Stiles’ favourite snacks and coffee, filling the fridge with healthy organic foods, and cooking meals.

The learning curve when it came to cooking had been steep. Derek had never needed cooking skills prior to living with Stiles. He had burned more meals than not in the beginning, but ensuring his boyfriend had healthy, home-cooked meals had quickly become a priority, especially after the discovery of Stiles’ complete inability to take care of his most basic needs during times of stress. It was something Derek discovered during Stiles’ first foray into college midterms.

Thankfully there had only been one epic meltdown, and a few tearful pleas, but the worst found Derek cuddling an inconsolable Stiles into the wee hours of the morning during his third semester because his boyfriend proclaimed himself an absolute failure, and was convinced he would never amount to anything. It had also been the night Derek realized that Stiles wished the Nogitsune had killed him, a guilt Derek related to all too well.

After a moment of concentrated internal debate, Derek dragged one of the bar stools around the island counter to sit directly across from the other, which would force him and Stiles to look at each other rather than them sit side by side and avoid each other. He thought about making tea, but decided against it. He could make some later if they needed to calm down after an intense discussion of what exactly they both wanted.

Derek wasn’t looking forward to their conversation. It would be difficult. Painful, even. He’d never been particularly open with his feelings, preferring, like Stiles, to ignore the problem until it just went away, but an open and honest dialogue between them was a necessity. Derek never wanted to hear genuine fear and panic directed at him from Stiles again in his life.

The pitch of Stiles’ voice and the roar of Stiles’ racing pulse when he had screamed “crustacean” had been like a wolfsbane coated arrow through Derek’s heart. Stiles had safe-worded because of Derek. That could never happen again, or if it did, that they had guidelines in place to follow rather than the panic like they had experienced. Derek hadn't even known how to calm Stiles down.

The approach of soft shuffling footsteps pulled Derek out of his head, and when he glanced up, he found Stiles standing shyly at the entrance to their kitchen. If it could be called an entrance. Really it was where the hardwood met tile.

Derek swallowed the hard lump forming in his throat and gestured to the seat across from him. “Would you… Please take a seat.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Stiles mumbled. He rubbed his arm and shuffled over to the bar stool as Derek sat down in his own seat and opened the folder. “You have paperwork?”

“I did research,” Derek admitted. His cheeks were warm, and he ducked his head. He should have researched before they had even started. Neither of them had known enough to engage in that type of relationship, and he could only pray that his actions had not left any lasting damage to Stiles’ trust in him.

“You did?” Stiles’ expression was a scandalous mix of shock and adoration, as if he hadn’t expected Derek to have put in the time and energy, but loved that he had. “I mean, I did too. But you know…’ He tapped the side of his head with a finger and gave Derek an uncertain smirk. “All up here.”

Derek offered his own gentle smile to try and put Stiles’ at ease. “I have no doubt, but I want us to create a physical contract to-”

“A contract?” Stiles squeaked. His eyes went wide as he sat up straight on his stool.

“Yes. A contract. Something to be negotiated and understood by both of us, and is also subject to amendments in the future as we progress,” Derek explained. He had no doubt that Stiles’ research had already taken him deep into the subject and beyond, but was more likely surprised at the depth Derek had gone to. “ I can’t hurt you again,” Derek whispered.

Stiles’ arm shot across the counter to grab Derek’s hand, but he seemed to think better of it halfway, and dropped his arm to the counter with a dull thud. “You didn’t.”

Derek acted on Stiles’ aborted desire and reached out to thread their fingers together. He squeezed gently. “You were terrified, Stiles,” he said, voice hoarse. “I never want to feel that again. I can’t… I just…”

“Okay.” Stiles drew his mouth into a grim line and nodded. “You have checklists? A list of guidelines? Behaviours?”

“Yes.” Derek shifted through the documents with one hand, refusing to let go of Stiles’ hand and lose that connection with him, and laid different documents on the counter. Some would be part of the contract they would draft. It would be in no way legally binding of course, but for their peace of mind and a symbol of their trust. Other documents would be used to communicate, negotiate, and find a commonality between their wants and needs. “First thing’s first…”

Derek held up two copies of a checklist that covered everything from blowjobs and anal penetration to blood play and scat.

“Are you open to sexual play?” Derek ask. He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear Stiles say it.

“I… wait, what?” Stiles heart rate picked up. “Are we not going to have sex anymore?”

“Stiles… Stiles breathe.” Derek dropped the checklists and grabbed Stiles' other hand as well and squeezed in an attempt to ground his boyfriend before he panicked. “That’s not what I’m saying. Not at all. Our sexual relationship would be separate. Reserved for when we are just us, and not... and not engaged in play.”

Stiles struggled to swallow. “So, we would have sex like usual, just not while I’m your pet,” he clarified.

Derek blinked. “Pet?”

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly a sub, and I’m definitely not a slave,” Stiles awkwardly laughed and stared down at the counter, but he didn’t let go of Derek’s hands. “Pet seems the most fitting, even if I do talk.”

“Incessantly, but wouldn’t have you any other way,” Derek said. “Not hearing your voice, even if you’re an annoying little shit, would be a punishment for both of us. Perhaps we should keep that in mind for future use?”

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, sure. Look, I don’t want you to treat me like an animal, I just want…” he trailed off as if trying to find the right words.

“Someone else to think for you?” Derek ventured softly, and Stiles bobbed his head in the affirmative, but didn’t say anything. They were quiet for a moment before Derek finally asked: “Are you interested in pursuing a sexual component to our play?”

Stiles grip on Derek’s hands tightened, but he straightened his back, drawing himself up to his full height and met unflinchingly met Derek’s eyes. “No.”

Derek tried, and failed, not to smile at the unwavering certainty and determination that blazed in Stiles’ expression, from the bright eyes to the set jaw. He squeezed Stiles’ hands one last time before he scooped up the sexual play checklists and dumped them straight into the garbage can beside the counter.

“Are you serious?” Stiles asked, voice almost too soft for Derek’s supernatural hearing to pick up.

“If it’s not something you are comfortable with, then it is not an option,” Derek said as he took his seat across from Stiles and picked up one of his boyfriend’s hands again. Stiles’ fingers were long and thin compared to his own, which were only slightly shorter, but much thicker. All the better for slowly working Stiles open until he begged.

Two weeks ago, Stiles had been draped over his lap, nude, as he always was when Stiles approached him with the intention to submit, and Derek had delighted in the warmth of the smooth, bare skin under his palm, barely sparing a moment of attention to the movie on the screen, far more focused on his blissed-out boyfriend.

The moment Derek’s finger traced down the cleft of Stiles’ ass and pressed a fingertip to the tight little hole, Stiles had stiffened. Derek should have read the mood and stopped there, but he didn’t. Stiles hadn’t said anything, though his pulse had quickened, and when Derek persisted, playfully trying to coax a response out of Stiles, the reaction had not been the one he had expected.

Derek closed his eyes against the memory of Stiles screaming, the safeword echoing in his mind, and swallowed hard. “I want you to feel safe, Stiles. I need you to trust me.”

“I do.”

The lack of hesitation made Derek blink, then he sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. He scowled at the counter. “How can you?”

Stiles insistently patted the counter in front of Derek until he looked up, and Stiles smiled. “Derek, you have more control than anyone I have ever met, you will never hurt me. I said no. You stopped.”

“But-” Derek tried.

“You’re not her,” Stiles said, and Derek’s jaw snapped shut. “Der, what do you want out of this?”

Derek’s brow furrowed as he thought hard, searching for the right words. He had never been meant to be an Alpha, and sacrificing his spark to save his sister had been the best decision he had ever made, but there was still a hole. His pack and Alpha were across the country, back in Beacon Hills.

“I need…” Derek licked his lips while he watched his thumb soothingly rub little circles on the back of Stiles’ hand. “I want,” he corrected, and Stiles hummed. “To be needed. I want to take care of you, to protect you, and to… to love you as you deserve to be loved. You are my pack.”

When Derek looked up, Stiles’ eyes were watery. “I just want to be good,” Stiles confessed.

“You are,” Derek said. “Stiles!” But Stiles looked away. “Stiles, look at me.”

It several minutes of quiet coaxing until Stiles turned back to face Derek, but not once had he released Derek’s hand.

“You are good,” Derek said fiercely. “And if I have to, I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

Stiles' heart stuttered in his chest and his breathing hitched. It took Derek a few seconds to understand what was happening when Stiles suddenly burst into tears. Before he even made the conscious decision to move, Derek was already around the counter and cocooning Stiles’ trembling body in his arms. He murmured soft words of comfort in his ear as they slid down the side of the counter to the floor together. With Stiles in his lap, head tucked under Derek’s chin, Derek buried his nose in Stiles’ hair.

“Good, boy. That’s it. Let it out. I’ve got you,” Derek whispered. He smoothed back Stiles messily spiked hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “My good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Sterek A-Z, weekly one word prompts, challenge being done on Tumblr with [isthatbloodonhisshirt](http://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
